


this place about to blow

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: A Trope That We Must Maintain For The Next Generation, Dancing, Gay Bar, M/M, Surprise Kissing, Undercover As Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You <i>followed</i> me?” Matt asks, pulling Foggy by his arm towards the front door.</p><p>“Followed you?” Foggy asks, rambling as he gamely lets himself be pulled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Murdock, this is my usual Friday night hangout. You know how I love synth music and sexually infused dancing and headaches.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	this place about to blow

**Author's Note:**

> I'm producing a truly terrifying amount of #content, but I can already tell that I want to preserve this one~*~ 
> 
> This trope is a very important trope. Just historically.

“You _followed_ me?” Matt asks, pulling Foggy by his arm towards the front door.

“Followed you?” Foggy asks, rambling as he gamely lets himself be pulled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Murdock, this is my usual Friday night hangout. You know how I love synth music and sexually infused dancing and headaches.”

“You followed me,” Matt deadpans, when they’re outside the club.  

“Damn right I followed you,” Foggy agrees, rolling his eyes. “You were being cagey, and you’re not allowed to be cagey because that’s when you lie and do something dumb and come to work with a broken jaw that you fixed with a band-aid.”

“My jaw was not broken that time,” Matt says, “and you following me without knowing what you’re getting into is a _significantly_ worse decision.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not a worse decision than you trying to infiltrate a place like this in a suit and tie,” Foggy says. “You need me, buddy. I’ve got my finger on the pulse of the youth culture.”

Matt stares at him blankly.

“Well, I’m not wearing a _tie_ , at least,” Foggy continues.  

“What _are_ you wearing?” Matt asks.

“Would you believe sequin short-shorts and a crop top?”

Matt laughs then immediately remembers he’s supposed to be angry.

“Go home, Foggy,” he says, starting to walk back into the club when Foggy grabs his arm to keep him there. He tries to muster an unimpressed look.

“If anybody in there had their eyes out for suspicious activity, I’m pretty sure a blind dude in a full suit dragging another dude—in sensible jeans and a t-shirt, by the way—out of the place might trigger some alarms,” Foggy says. “But if we ditch your jacket…”

Foggy tugs at Matt’s sleeve until Matt huffs and shucks his jacket off, handing it over.

“Good choice,” Foggy says then starts fussing with Matt’s clothes, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoning several buttons while Matt flushes and hopes he doesn’t notice before he makes a soft contemplative noise and unbuttons one more, patting Matt’s chest when he’s finished. “There. Now you look like you’re full of youthful abandon. We just have to go back in there, pretend like we’re done fighting, and keep an eye out for—whoever the hell you’re looking for. Who is that again?”

“The less you know, the better,” Matt says.

“Okay, wow, we’re going to have a _talk_ about you being a cryptic asshole later,” Foggy says, “but, for now, hold my hand.”

“What?” Matt asks. “Why?”

“You don’t even know what kind of club you’re at, do you, Murdock?” Foggy asks.

Matt thinks about it for a second.

“Oh,” he says, then, after a long moment, “ _Ohhh,”_ then slowly holds out his hand for Foggy to take. Having a little cover couldn’t hurt, as long as he gets Foggy out of there before anything happens. He’s managed to track down the base of a drug ring to a couple of clubs in the area, alternating weeks—he just needs to get close enough to their back rooms to confirm the schedule so he can drop in as Daredevil later.

Foggy starts to lead him back inside before he makes a noise and says, “Hold on.”

He reaches up to run his fingers through Matt’s hair, messing it up purposefully. His fingers slide over the ear plugs that Matt put in earlier, and he says, “Oh, I was wondering how you were dealing with that heavy bass.”

“It’s still terrible,” Matt admits.

“Then let’s do this quick,” Foggy says, brightly. “Just tell me what you need.”

Matt’s not unaffected by Foggy saying that while still touching his hair, standing really close, but he shakes it off and says, “I need to get close enough to the back to listen for a few minutes. There’s a guard—he steps away, occasionally, but I haven’t timed it right.”

“I imagine the fact that you weren’t blending in at all didn’t help,” Foggy says. “I thought for maybe five seconds that you were just closeted and I was unearthing your hidden gay secret before I saw you skulking around and realized this was a double D thing.”

“. . .we should get inside,” Matt says, ignoring that statement altogether and tugging on his hand. As soon as they’re inside the club, Matt focuses on the sound of Foggy’s body, his heart and blood and breath, to try to dull the rest of the noise. Foggy seems to notice, because he lets go of Matt’s hand to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him close to his side so he can feel as well as hear him.

“I’m afraid to say this, buddy,” Foggy says, close to his ear, “but I think we’re gonna have to dance.”

Matt frowns at him.

“Best view and closest route to that imposing guard in the back is from the dance floor,” Foggy says. “Maybe we can find a shadowy corner where nobody will judge us, come on.”

“I’m a good dancer,” Matt says. “I’ve been told.”

“I’ve seen you dance,” Foggy says. “Did you know that sometimes people say nice things to you when you’ve got a face that looks like yours?”

“Are you telling me I’ve been lied to?” Matt asks, failing to hide a smile.

“I’m telling you that whoever told you that you’re a good dancer was trying to get into your pants,” Foggy says, squeezing Matt’s hip, and Matt laughs.

“I’m shocked and appalled,” he says, getting a little nervous as they step onto the dance floor, hyperaware of the crush of bodies all around them. Foggy comes to a stop and shuffles around until he’s standing in front of Matt, dropping his hands to rest on Matt’s hips, like that’s something they do, casual and normal and Matt’s heart is _definitely_ not racing.

“Okay, how d’you want to do this thing?” Foggy asks. “Cha-Cha Slide? Electric Slide? Pretty much the only dances I know involve sliding.”

“What’s everybody else doing?” Matt asks, even though he’s pretty sure just from the _smell_ that he knows what they’re doing.

“Uhm,” Foggy says.

He steps forward a little and pulls Matt in by his hips, fingers pressing gently into his skin, and Matt goes easily. Nothing seems real right now, not the noise beating up against his skull or Foggy stepping forward until they’re chest to chest.

“Kind of this,” Foggy says.

Matt lets out a shaky breath.

“When in Rome?” he asks, moving in marginally closer, palms resting flat on Foggy’s back.

“Crime fighting is weird,” Foggy replies, but he starts to move first, a careful rhythm that he’s clearly thinking too much about. This isn’t really dancing so much as it is _foreplay_ , and Matt tries to make a joke about _kids these days_ but he can’t seem to remember how to talk with Foggy pressed up against him.

He laughs when Foggy says, “I feel incredibly too old for this,” into his ear and relaxes a little bit against him, resting his forehead against his shoulder.

“I think we’re pulling it off, don’t you?” Matt says, letting one hand slip to the small of Foggy’s back, the other sliding into his hair. Foggy makes a noise that Matt doesn’t quite catch.

“Sure,” he says. “Totally pulling it off.”

Matt lets himself fall into it, trying and failing to keep his hips angled away, only to find that Foggy’s hard, too, which at least makes him feel better. It’s just— _friction_ , basic science, nothing to be concerned about. It doesn’t mean anything.

Foggy gracefully doesn’t say anything when Matt accidentally stutters out a moan when they push together at just the right angle, just holds him closer until he pulls away suddenly, saying, “Shit, he’s gone, now’s your chance.”

It takes Matt way too long to remember exactly why they’re there, but then Foggy’s leading him towards the back of the room and saying, “I’ll keep an eye out, do your thing.”  

Matt steps in close to the door and takes out the earplugs, wincing as the music hits him full-force again. He presses a hand to the wood to steady himself, trying to focus over it—he’s just starting to pick up a conversation inside when Foggy’s saying close by, “Bail, bail, bail, he’s headed our way.”

Matt lingers a little too long, and then Foggy’s grabbing his wrist and pulling him to the side.

“He’s headed right towards us,” he hisses, and Matt nods, thinks about the consequences of his actions for about three seconds before he’s pressing Foggy up against the wall and kissing him in rhythm to his pulse speeding up. It feels rash and desperate and Foggy’s body tenses against his before he melts into it, deepening the kiss and pulling Matt closer with fingers pressing against his jaw.

When the guard just gruffly tells them to take it to the bathroom, Foggy nods frantically and leads Matt away, straight back to the front door. Matt keeps his head bowed, scuffs a foot on the sidewalk when he says, “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have—

Foggy interrupts him with another kiss, and Matt moans into it.

“Is this just really exceptional acting?” he asks, and Matt shakes his head.

“I’m a terrible actor,” he says. “Even worse than my dancing.”

“I don’t know, I might have to take back what I said about your dancing,” Foggy says, palming Matt’s cheek gently. “I can definitely see the appeal of it.”

Matt smiles at him.

“You know, I realized about halfway through that first kiss that I could have just listened in from the alleyway door instead,” he says, and Foggy starts laughing and only stops when Matt kisses him again, putting everything he has into it.

“Finally, your terrible plans are good for something,” Foggy says, when they pull away. “You want to go dance some more?”

“Can we dance at your place?” Matt asks. “I can still feel that music in my _teeth_.”

“Absolutely,” Foggy says, putting his arm back around Matt’s waist as they start walking. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I think I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> [currently frantically filling a million prompts at tumblr.com in anticipation of s2](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com).


End file.
